


Cry Uncle

by astroturfwars



Category: Free!
Genre: Consensual, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Spanking, dweebs with communication problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroturfwars/pseuds/astroturfwars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Haru leans further into Rin's space, watching his eyes narrow as he tracks Haru's movements.</i>
</p><p>  <i>He says, evenly, "Are you a masochist?"</i></p><p> </p><p>Or: Rin has a not-so-well-hidden secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Uncle

**Author's Note:**

> Consensual spanking and handjobs and emotional constipation because these boys are huge horny dorks and I just wanted to write porn ugh sorry.

It's innocuous and accidental at first. Haru catches Rin fingering the shadow of a bruise on his neck, wetting his lips as he catches the skin between his fingers.  


When Haru tries to ask about it Rin blushes, scowls, snaps at Haru for watching him, and stalks off. 

\--  


"Don't touch that!"  


"Are you--"  


"Mind your own business!"

\--

"Rin, do you want to--?"  


"Get the hell away from me!"

\--

"Rin, we should talk--"  


"Not you too, Makoto--tell Haru to fuck off, will you?"

\--

Haru learns absolutely nothing through straightforward inquiry, mostly because Rin turns a shade darker than his hair and flat-out refuses to answer any questions. Sometimes he ignores Haru, sometimes he runs away--though Rin would never call it _running_ \--and sometimes he very blatantly changes the subject. Haru lets him avoid the topic for about a week, if for no other reason than the way Rin splutters and fusses when Haru asks. Haru can tell it's something personal--or at least embarrassing, at any rate--but doesn't that mean he should know all the more?  


Yes, it does, Haru thinks, because he told Rin not to cry any more, and there was no way Rin could keep that promise alone, as much of a crybaby as he was. He would just have to make sure it wasn't anything bad, that was all, and then Rin could go back to his badass punk pretenses. 

So it's with Rin's best interests at heart that Haru, on one of their quieter nights, says, "Let's talk."  


Rin is bone-tired from practice earlier, listing sideways and propping himself up on one elbow on the arm of the couch, but now he's bolt upright. He tries not to make his eyes so wide, tries to school the drop of his jaw into a frown, tries to act like he isn't thrown off. He fails miserably.  


"What?"  


Haru's not one for conversation--they both know that well because Rin is the one who fills their silences and coaxes responses, however short they are, from Haru's mouth--so it's no surprise that Rin's voice is a little shaky. Maybe Haru feels a little bad for scaring him.  


Maybe he thinks it's a little funny, and he'll file that away under 'Ways to Freak Rin Out'.  


Haru sighs, shifting on the couch to face Rin. Rin draws up the leg he's got on the couch, eyeing him as warily as he would a growling dog, and repeats himself because Haru never answers fast enough for his liking. "What do you want?"  


Haru leans further into Rin's space, watching his eyes narrow as he tracks Haru's movements.  


He says, evenly, "Are you a masochist?"  


It's only by luck and reflexes born of the starting whistle that Haru avoids a sharp knee to the face. Rin makes a series of choking, garbled noises that vaguely resemble protests, one hand up in Haru's direction as though he can ward off further questioning.  


"What--no, why--I--"  


Haru contemplates waiting it out, and decides that Rin will probably ride the denial train until its last stop in hopes that he'll just give up. He says, after a good ten seconds of flustered noises, "Just answer the question."  


"I--" Rin turns his head to the side, face bright red and eyes glossy, and mumbles something.  


Haru sits up on his knees and leans forward until his elbow brushes the inside of Rin's thigh. How does Rin expect him to hear anything if he's just going to mumble it away from Haru's ears?  


He says as much, and Rin just huffs and does it again, which is irritating; Haru has taken the time out of his day to figure out what's wrong with Rin, and Rin is just going to be childish about it. No, that wouldn't do at all; Rin has never backed down from Haru before, and he shouldn't be doing it now, not when he knows he can trust Haru. It feels wrong, all wrong, and Haru catches up Rin's dangling hand and presses it against the arm of the couch near Rin's head.  


"Rin," Haru begins, insistent.  


Rin cuts him off, snapping his head up so fast his hair flies like violet leaves in a violent autumn wind, and nearly shouts, "So what if I am?"  


"Okay."  


"It's a perfectly normal thing!"  


"Okay."  


"It's nothing to be ashamed--wait." Rin blinks, caught between defensive and confused. "What do you mean, ' _okay_ '?"  


"Okay." Haru hitches one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "I don't get it, but that's okay."  


Rin looks away again, staring somewhere across the room, and says, "It's not about the pain. It's just...it's like a reminder. That you're there."  


And _that_ Haru gets. He understands the need to know that when he goes away Rin will be there waiting when he gets back; he understands that Rin wants a physical reminder of Haru's presence to carry with him wherever he goes. Haru gets it because he and Rin have left each other too many times to be comfortable with just yet, enough times for it to still hurt when Haru shuts down and retreats to the pool when he and Rin argue (he knows it hurts because when he comes back Rin's eyes are red and puffy and his nose is chafed from rubbing at it, and he told Rin not to cry any more _at all_ , not just when Haru wasn't around, _you idiot_ ).  


"Romantic," Haru says dryly, shifting his weight until he's hovering over Rin. He tilts Rin's head up against a fair amount of resistance, running his thumb along the sharp curve of Rin's scowl, and meets Rin's eyes. "It's okay, Rin."  


"Damn it," Rin says, blinking back tears, and Haru rolls his eyes. One of these days Rin will stop crying (maybe), but today is not that day, and Haru thinks he can make allowances. "Asshole."  


"How am I an asshole?" Haru asks. He leans down, puts his weight on his elbow and the hand he's got pinning down Rin's wrist, makes sure his thighs are pressed against the backs of Rin's. Rin sucks in a breath through his nose, affecting unaffectedness.  


"You just are," Rin says, his tone just short of acidic. His eyes are lowered, trained on the sly slight curve of Haru's mouth, and Haru is fairly sure he knows what Rin wants.  


He lowers his head to the curve of Rin's neck, to the spot he's been prodding at for seven days, now as pale as the rest of his skin, and sucks the skin there into his mouth.  


Rin lets go of his irritation in a surprised _ah_ , his head falling back to give Haru room to work. Haru sinks his teeth into Rin's neck, privately grateful his teeth weren't as sharp as Rin's, worries at the skin until it's hot and slick under his tongue. He kisses and sucks and kisses again, drags his teeth breath-light over the line of Rin's collarbone to the hollowed-out dip at the base of his throat. He reacquaints himself with it, with the way Rin's pulse butterflies race-quick under his tongue, the way Rin's moan catches and vibrates beneath his lips when he draws the skin into his mouth.  


"Haru," Rin breathes, low, and Haru looks up. A flush rides high on his cheeks and his eyes are dark and Haru can see marks from where he's sunk his teeth into his lip and thinks that's his next destination. The marks stretch as Rin's mouth curves into a smirk, half challenge and half disguised request, and he says, "I'm not a fucking princess. Put some muscle into it."  


Haru can't help the chuckle that escapes him, even when Rin's hand tangles in his hair and pulls hard enough to make him almost wince, and says, "If you think you can handle it."  


By the time Rin comes up with some snappy reply Haru is tightening his hold on Rin's wrist, shifting his weight forward, and settling his free hand on Rin's waist. His fingers dig into the skin there, muscles giving way under pressure, and Rin gasps once and again when Haru bites at the thin skin at the crook of his jaw, sucking hard enough to raise blood immediately after he lets go.  


Rin is hard, the outline of him visible through the loose sweatpants he'd thrown on after practice, and Haru remembers how tired he'd been earlier. It's at odds with how worked up he is now, the flush spreading down his neck and over his upper chest in blotches, darker in some places from Haru's mouth. Haru is on the same page; they always are when it's like this, needy and hot and close as they trade breaths in time, harmonizing moans and grunts like a symphony.  


Haru bumps his nose against Rin's cheek, gets his attention, and their eyes meet for a moment that's nearly too brief for focus but gets the message across. Rin moves under him with renewed vigor, breathing his name like it's bursting at the seams of his chest and if he doesn't let it out he'll break, and it sets something on fire low in Haru's stomach.  


He lets go, feels the way Rin's skin sticks to his fingers for a split second and thinks that's just like him, how Rin always sticks to him like the way scent clings to hair, and repositions his hands on Rin's hips. Haru's thumbs settle in the divot Rin's hipbones create, finding purchase there, and he tightens his grip until his own hands almost hurt but Rin is squirming, thighs tightening on Haru's sides. It keeps him from being able to reach Rin's mouth, which is not ideal; Haru releases his hold for a second to swat at Rin's ass and say, "Loosen up."  


The moan that breaks through Rin's lips has a hotline to Haru's dick, it seems, because suddenly he's achingly hard and desperate to hear Rin make that noise again, and he knows exactly how to earn it.  


Rin's thighs fall open and Haru presses them close, rolling his hips against Rin's, and says, "Tell me if it's too much."  


"Not gonna cry uncle," Rin says, challenge glittering in his eyes, and Haru swats him again. Rin tightens his lips, still smirking, and Haru can never refuse a challenge from Rin, never has and never will.  


He yanks at the drawstring of Rin's pants until the knot comes undone, tugs the waistband down over Rin's ass, and lets his hand fly.  


A moan breaks the seal of Rin's lips and he arches, lifting his hips off the couch, and Haru puts his weight on the hand he's got on Rin's hip. He hitches Rin's leg up over his shoulder, takes a second to run his hand over the curve of Rin's ass and appreciate it, the warmth radiating from it where the skin is turning pink, and meets Rin's eyes. He's breathing hard, biting down on his lip, and he says, "Not even close, Nanase."  


"We'll see," Haru says.  


It takes eight good smacks, each one harder than the last until Haru's hand is red and probably swollen, for Rin to swallow the spit thick in his mouth and say, "Fuck, shit, okayokay _okay_ , I won't be able to sit down tomorrow, you asshole."  


"You asked for it," Haru says, grips Rin's ass just hard enough to make Rin wince and moan again. "I think you just like it rough."  


"You're not wrong," Rin says, grinning, and Haru is taken aback by how open Rin's face is now. He wonders briefly, inappropriately, how long Rin has been hiding this desire from him, and is overcome by a surge of affection.  


"Don't hide things like this," Haru murmurs into the sharpness of Rin's jaw. He can practically feel Rin rolling his eyes. Rich, coming from a romantic like him. "Not from me."  


"Don't get all sappy on me. You're gonna kill my boner."  


"Not a chance," Haru says dryly, spitting in the palm of his hand and sliding it between them. He swipes his thumb across the head of Rin's dick, precome beading slick and sticky, and frees his own from his sweats. There's a wet spot on the fabric that he'll frown at when he does laundry tomorrow but right now he can't bring himself to care, not when Rin is lit up pink and red and purple everywhere like a sunset and groaning Haru's name, jerking his hips up to force his cock through the circle of Haru's fingers. Haru fists them both in his hand, thanking whatever deities that his big hands were useful for both swimming and sex, and sets a quick rhythm.  


Rin grabs him by the hair and drags his head up, redirecting Haru's attention from the tandem movement of their hips to his face, and kisses him hard. It's messy and wet and sloppy and Haru gets Rin's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and biting and rolling until Rin's mouth is red and swollen when Haru surfaces for air before diving back in, and even then it's not enough. It's not enough until Rin is clawing at his back because Haru's pace is insistent bordering on punishing and his fingers are absolutely cruel as they twist Rin's nipple. It's not enough until Haru is dragging his own name from Rin's throat in howls amidst cracking pleas and filthy curses.  


It's not enough until they're both coming hard and Haru mistakes the orgasm-addled grin on Rin's face for stars dancing in his vision. 

\---

"Haru," Makoto says when the Iwatobi boys arrive at Samezuka's pool, eyeing Haru warily. Haru doesn't answer, busy tracking the way Rin hitches the fabric of his jammers up further on his hips like they'll stay there in a half-assed attempt to cover up the ten finger-shapes bruises mottling the skin of his hips. Mikoshiba looks caught between concerned and amused and disgusted, trying to find a place on Rin to look that isn't thoroughly marked up or otherwise inappropriate as he lectures.  


Rin looks away, scoffing, and meets Haru's gaze. Surprise rolls over his face, followed by an excited sort of contentment, and then--  


He flushes, rubbing unconsciously at his backside, and Haru can't help but smirk.  


 _I win_ , he mouths at Rin, who blushes and scowls and turns away. Mikoshiba takes a look at Rin, at the constellation of bruises and bite marks mapped out over his chest and stomach, and walks away to start practice.  


Makoto sighs.  


"Haru, maybe we really should talk..."


End file.
